


Forever Yours

by SkyFireForever



Category: 1776 (1972)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-21 18:24:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17647610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyFireForever/pseuds/SkyFireForever
Summary: John sends for his wife, believing that her presence will help him forget his confusing feelings as they concern the Jeffersons. Little does he know what feelings she may develop for herself.





	1. Letters

John Adams was never hesitant in telling others what he wanted. If he wanted independence, which he did, he would shout it to the entirety of Congress- indeed, to the entirety of Philadelphia. If he preferred his eggs to be over easy and they were prepared scrambled, he would send them back and refuse to eat them. He was a man who knew what he wanted and would stop at nothing to achieve his desired outcome. John rarely paused for even a moment before expressing his dissatisfaction with the world around him. 

Which was why putting this same attitude into writing should be the most natural thing in the world to someone like John Adams; and yet, he hadn't written more than two lines in half an hour. He sighed and crumpled the sheet of paper into a ball, tossing it into the wastebasket. He was beginning to understand why Mr. Jefferson hadn't made much progress over the course of a week. John was becoming frustrated by the very act of addressing a simple letter. 

“Snap out of it, damn it.” He shook himself, stretching his fingers out to keep them from cramping. He picked up his quill and dipped it into the ink. “Dear Mrs. Jefferson,” He began, saying each word aloud to himself as he wrote it across the page. “My name is John Adams. I am an associate of your husband's here at Congress.” He tapped his chin with the feather end of the quill. How did one go about inviting a woman he had never met to Congress? It was clear that Jefferson was getting nowhere with the Declaration and something had to be done about it. He sighed before continuing. “Mr. Jefferson speaks quite highly of you - indeed, it is clear to all that your presence never escapes his thoughts for even a moment. He laments his deep regret at not returning home to you at Monticello,” That was what it was called, wasn't it? He'd have to hope so. “It appears that your absence has sent him into a mournful depression I see reserved only for widowers.” That might have been a tad dramatic, but Jefferson himself was being dramatic. 

“His current state of mind does him a great disservice, madam.” He continued. “His work has become stagnant and stale, so far from the literary genius I know him to be capable of. Unfortunately, his prowess with the quill is of the utmost importance to the continuation of our Congress at the present time.” He sighed, his wrist becoming stiff. “This, Mrs. Jefferson, is why I am writing to you on this day.”

“It seems very much to me that there is but one cure to your husband's temporary madness,” he wrote in a scrawl. “That cure, my dear lady, is you.” 

He considered for a moment how to best formulate his request. “If you were to come to Congress -to speak with him- perhaps you could cure him of this insanity. I beg of you to come to Congress at your earliest possible convenience for the sake of your husband and of the entirety of what shall become America.”

“Your obedient, John Adams.” He signed of with a flourish, rereading his writing with a critical eye. He wasn't half the writer that Jefferson was, but it would have to do. He prayed that Mrs. Jefferson would heed his call.

\--- 

 

Martha Jefferson hadn't been what John had expected. Truth be told: He hadn't had any expectations in the first place; and yet, the woman had managed to defy them anyway. The woman had spirit, grace, and she enjoyed the world around her. She had no trouble speaking her thoughts, stating her opinions as bluntly as fact. John supposed that the two of them shared this trait. 

And certainly, the woman was beautiful. Her blonde waves caught the sun pleasantly and her cheeks were as rosy as a babe's. Her blue eyes sparkled when an idea came to her mind or when she spoke passionately. Her voice was like honey and her laughter like music. Then, there was the way she looked at him: With such wonder and curiosity, like she would be content to listen to him speak for hours on end. The thought caused his stomach to flutter.

He shook himself. Such thoughts were highly inappropriate. Good God, they were both married! John loved his  _ wife.  _ He adored her. He worshipped her wit and insight: How she never hesitated to tell him when he was mistaken. His wife was his rock, his everything. He would never dream of betraying her in any way.

He sat at his desk, rereading her most recent note. He traced the neat writing with his fingers. Oh, how he missed her. His Abigail. He wished that she could take the time away from Braintree and come to him. If Jefferson was allowed his wife, wasn't John permitted his? He picked up his quill.

“My dearest friend,” He began. “Simple words can not begin to express my longing for you. Even on these summer nights, my bed feels cold and barren. Mr. Jefferson and his wife mock me, causing the days to become colder still. What I would give to hold you in my arms again, my dearest Abigail.”

He paused, staring down at his own scrawl across the page. He had truly been away from his wife for far too long. The details of her image had become faint in his mind. He could not recall if she had a birthmark behind her left ear or her right. He couldn't remember if she crossed her arms left over right or right over left. There were so many details that he hadn't paid close enough attention to. He looked down at the paper and wrote without consideration. “Come to Congress, Abigail. Come. Please, come. Allow me to gaze upon you as I once did. Allow me to memorize every detail of your perfection. I beg of you, allow me to rejoice in your presence! I have spent far too much time apart from you. Allow me to be selfish in this one aspect, Abigail. Bring the children if you must. I have no care for anyone in the world save you.”

He looked down at the words he had written and let out a heavy sigh. He knew that what he asked for was unreasonable. Abigail had to tend to the farm. She had to take care of the children. That didn't stop John from missing her like the sun missed the moon. “You must pardon my unrealistic request, Abigail. Without you by my side, I fear I have become an unreasonable man. Still, I yearn for the day I can see you again.”

“Forever yours, John Adams.” He read over the letter several times with a fond smile. Oh, how he missed his Abigail. He closed his eyes and placed a gentle kiss to the parchment, hoping that it would reach her.

\---

John held Abigail's response in his hand, staring in disbelief at the words written. His request for her to join him had been written in a moment of foolish desperation. There had never been any true intent behind it. Abigail's reply signified that she took his plea quite literally.

 

My much loved friend,

 

Your last letter ignited such passion in my heart that could no longer be ignored. I miss you every bit as much as you described, if not more so. Our time apart has caused me unimaginable suffering, as I think longingly of you each night and day. Little Thomas grows to look more like his father with each passing hour. I can sit patiently by no longer, John. You are changing the very world and I demand to be a part of it. 

 

I am packing now to depart for Philadelphia at sunrise. All of our children shall be accompanying me. We shall be in each other's embrace soon, my friend.

 

Your most affectionate, 

Abigail Adams

 

John had to reread the letter half a dozen times to fully believe it. His Abigail was coming to Congress.


	2. Then

The next few days passed in tense anticipation. John couldn't wait to see his wife again. His spirits had been lifted and he was overjoyed. He became less argumentative, quieter, more pleasant. The change was notable, as Dickinson pointed it out with fascination. 

“Tell me, James: Have you ever heard the Congress in such high spirits?” He was sitting cross legged on the desk where Wilson was sitting. 

Wilson looked up. “Oh, well-”

“It's almost as if the entire attitude of our most outspoken opponent has changed.” He smirked, removing himself from the desk and sauntering over to John. “I wonder what could cause such a change.”

John glanced up, his usual inferno of anger nothing but a low simmer. “I'm sure you would enjoy that knowledge, Dickinson.” He smirked, refusing to be goaded into a fight. He leaned back in his chair. Abigail should be arriving that night. Nothing could anger him now. 

Dickinson rose an eyebrow. “At least Mr. Jefferson's lift in mood has an explanation.” He gestured to Jefferson, who was gazing longingly out of the window. It was clear that he couldn't wait to depart from Congress to return to his wife. “Do you have a woman easing your anger, Adams?”

“That is hardly any business of yours, Dickinson.” The simmer was heating to a boil. “After all, your wife could hardly ease anything.”

Dickinson scowled. “How dare-”

“Gentlemen, that is enough!” Hancock banged his gavel against the desk. “It's too hot.” He sounded exhausted, wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “Mr. Dickinson, sit down. Why must you aggravate the peace?”

Dickinson scowled, glancing between John and Hancock. He learned over John's desk and hissed in his ear. “Speak of my wife in this manner again and I will not be leaving peacefully.” He warned before returning to his seat beside Wilson.

The boil was growing to more of a flame. John's anger flared up and his chair legs made a screeching noise as they scraped across the floor. He stood and opened his mouth to make a retort and insult to Dickinson’s wife, but the door creaked open before a sound could came out. All eyes turned towards the entrance and to the woman standing in the doorway. 

“Excuse me, ma'am, but you can not be in here.” Hancock cleared his throat. “This is the Congress.”

“I know full well where I am, Mr. Hancock, thank you.” She adjusted the toddler being held on her hip. “I very much do not enjoy being told where I can and can not go.” Her voice was snappy, abrupt. She didn't take well to being given orders. 

Hancock seemed taken aback, staring at her blankly. John's face burned as he approached his wife. “Abigail, you weren't supposed to be arriving until tonight.” He tried to usher her out of the door to spare himself the embarrassment. 

“And I arrived earlier than expected.” Abigail said simply, her feet rooted to the ground. “I thought you'd be happy, John.”

“I am!” John put his hands up. “Of course I am. I'm simply in the middle of-”

“It doesn't appear that you are in the middle of anything.” She said accusingly, gesturing to Witherspoon, who was fast asleep. “How much could you possibly miss by stepping out with me a moment?”

She was making a point now. She wouldn't allow him to talk down to her in front of his fellow delegates. “Nothing. Nothing, of course.” He conceded, opening the door to follow her out.

“It seems my question has been answered.” Dickinson remarked, causing chuckles to ring through the hall. John glared before following his wife into the hallway. 

“Abigail-” He was cut off by the press of soft lips against his. He was startled at first before closing his eyes and leaning into the body before him. He reached up to cup her cheek, holding her close. She eventually pulled away and his eyelids fluttered open. “Abigail. My Abigail.” 

“I have missed you John.” She breathed, setting little Thomas down. John stared at her. She had lost weight. Her eyes seemed a bit more sunken. She appeared tired. John was overwhelmed by the urge to pick her up and carry her to bed and take care of her. He barely managed to stifle that urge, offering his hand to Abigail, which she accepted. He led her to the apartment where he was staying, the children following behind. 

He unlocked the door and allowed them to file in. “There isn't much room for the children.” He admitted. “Tommy could lay in bed with us. I have an extra blanket for the others.” He realized how small the room was. 

“We'll make it work, John.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Don't worry.” She smiled fondly at him.

John nodded in agreement. “We always do.” He pulled her closer and kissed her. Her body was so warm against his. It was needed. He wrapped his arms around her, moving his hands down her back. She pressed herself against him and he made a small noise of satisfaction. He moved towards the bed hurriedly, pressing her against the mattress before climbing on top of her. 

“Mr. Adams?” His head snapped up and turned towards the door at the sound of Mrs. Jefferson's voice. He quickly removed himself from his wife and met Martha just outside. “I thought I saw you, John.” She smiled that beautiful smile that made John weak in the knees. “But Congress isn't out yet. Tom isn't even home. Why are you home so early? Are you ill?”

“Oh, no. I am well, madam.” John assured with a smile, touched by Martha's concern for him. 

“That's good at least.” She smiled so kindly. “Do you have company, John?” Her inquisitive natures shone through. She always seemed eager to know what was going on around her. 

“Oh, well-”

“Who is it, John?” Abigail moved to John's side, looking over him at Martha. “Oh, hello.” Her eyes trailed over her body, almost as if studying her. 

Martha's smile never faltered. “Hello! You must be Mrs. Adams.” She outstretched her hand. “My name is Martha Jefferson.”

Abigail took her hand and shook it. “Abigail Adams.” She introduced herself. “Jefferson? As in-”

“Wife of Thomas Jefferson.” Her voice radiated pride. She was so clearly enamoured with her husband. She adored him in every way. John’s heart softened at the declaration. 

“I see. It's a pleasure to meet you.” Abigail smiled. 

“You as well, Mrs. Adams. I'm glad you could visit your husband. We mustn't allow the men to be in charge of everything.” 

“Oh, heavens no.” Abigail laughed. “They would be able to accomplish nothing without us.”

“Quite right, Mrs. Adams.” Martha agreed cheerfully. “My apologies for interrupting.” She curtsied politely. “I will allow the two of you to catch up.” She had a devilish twinkle in her eye and John swallowed harshly at the implication. “I hope to be spending more time with you, Mrs. Adams.” 

Abigail nodded and closed the door as Martha took her leave. “She's an interesting woman.” She looked thoughtful. “Beautiful.” She studied John's face for a reaction. 

“Not as beautiful as you.” He took her hand, pulling her closer.

She laughed. “Correct answer.” She kissed him. “Now, where did we leave off?”


	3. Women's Wiles

John read over Thomas’ progress with the Declaration each night. He’d sit in comfortable silence with the man as he studied the masterfully crafted phrases and skilled penmanship. John had never met a man who could write so eloquently with such little effort. Thomas wrote with natural skill far better than any learned man could be taught in years of schooling. He had to admit to himself a small portion of jealousy at the man’s natural abilities. 

Indeed, it seemed that with his wife present to “relieve his tension” as it were, Thomas was able put quill to parchment for hours at a time. For John to say he was impressed would be an extreme understatement. 

“Well done; as always, Thomas.” He set the papers down on Thomas’ desk. “I will never know how you do it.” The man shrugged modestly and John suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Thomas certainly knew how talented he was. John couldn’t understand why he didn’t revel in it. He rose to his feet. “Come. We must see what our wives are up to.”

The women had been spending a great deal of time together. The original plan was for Martha to stay only a few days, but she seemed to be enjoying herself far too much to return home. John had never seen Abigail more at home with another woman as she did with Martha. The two of them shared looks that John couldn’t hope to decipher, whispered conversations that they didn’t wish him to hear, and rejoiced in each other’s company. John must admit that he was relieved that the two of them got on so well. Abigail deserved the joy that came from her new friendship. 

He walked with his friend down the street. The weather was in as good spirits as he was, if a bit warm. “Wonderful day, isn’t it?” He glanced at Thomas, who shrugged again. John believed that he could speak enough for the both of them, but his companion’s lack of speech could grow rather dull at times. “Come, man. Do speak up.” 

“It’s a nice day.” He remarked unhelpfully. John gave up on attempting to coax any form of conversation from his friend. He settled for walking in stagnant silence. 

He spotted their wives a way down the road and pointed them out. “Ah, there they are. The ladies of the Congress.” The two of them hadn’t seemed to notice the men, whispering something to one another. After an unintelligible word from Abigail, Martha threw back her head and laughed her musical laugh. John felt his face flush at the sound. He turned to Thomas. “What say you, Thomas? Should we make our presence known or be content to watch a moment?” 

Thomas shrugged, his gaze not leaving the women. He appeared absolutely lovestruck, unable to tear his eyes away. John hoped to God that he didn’t look as absolutely foolish when he gazed upon Abigail. “She’s beautiful, John.” 

“Oh, he speaks!” John declared, a surprised exasperation in his voice. Of course it would be Martha who finally managed to force something out of him. “I’d hope that you’d think so. She’s your wife, after all.” 

Thomas didn’t respond, approaching his wife instead. John huffed and decided to watch rather than follow after. Thomas and Martha embraced, sharing bright and happy smiles. It was clear just how much they adored one another. He felt a tug at his heart as he watched them, but he couldn’t discern why. He noticed that Abigail was watching them with much the same expression. There was a fondness in her eyes as she gazed upon them. He recognized the same look as had appeared on Thomas’ face. Lovestruck. Fond. 

John was taken aback by the realization. Taken aback and rather confused. Abigail had no romantic affiliation with the Jeffersons. There was no reason for her to to look at them like that. He shook his head. He must be imagining things. There was no other explanation for it. He approached them with an easy smile, catching Abigail’s attention. 

“Hello, John.” He was struck by how much he had missed her knowing smile while she had been away. It was a slight quirk at the corner of her lips paired with an eyebrow raised just so. It gave the appearance that she knew something about him, something that perhaps he didn’t even know. It was mysterious and yet charming. It might seem scrutinizing to others; but to him, it was an expression of adoration. 

“Good day, my dear Abigail.” He inclined his head towards her in greeting. “Have you been enjoying your walk with Mrs. Jefferson?” His civility was only reserved for public appearances. He’d hate for anyone to suggest that his mind could be dampened by thoughts of a woman.  

She rolled her eyes in absolutely impolite manner. “Come now, John. There is no need to behave so formally before your wife. I’d hate to imagine that in our time apart you began to think of me as a stranger.” 

“Never, madam. Never.” John insisted with haste, the tips of his ears reddening. 

She laughed. “Oh, John. You mustn’t make it so easy to tease you.” She flashed him a playful smile. “Or perhaps you might make it easier. I do so enjoy how you blush.”

“Like a maiden.” Martha chimed in helpfully, a wondrous smile on her lips. “A young maiden experiencing the love of a gentleman for the first.” Her comment was met with barking laughter from Thomas, an arm wrapped around his wife’s waist as if letting her go would cause her to disappear. 

John was certain that the reddening of his cheeks must have painted quite the hideous picture. “I imagine that I would make a rather unsightly maiden. Still a prettier sight than Mrs. Dickinson in any case.” 

“You must be kind to the woman, John.” Abigail swatted his arm. “My God, you haven’t even exchanged words with her.”

“I can’t imagine that I would have to, madam.” John attempted to hide his fond smile. “Perhaps you are correct: I should take pity on a woman as unfortunate as she. Cursed as she is with her appearance as well as her husband.” 

Abigail scoffed and Martha laughed, approaching him to place a pale hand to his cheek. “I believe you would have made a lovely maiden.” Her eyes caught the light of the sun within them. “Though, I doubt your temperament would be befitting of a lady.” 

“I daresay you are correct, madam.” John couldn’t help but to return the smile she offered him. He clasped her hand in his own without giving it much thought, holding without removing it from his cheek. “No man would think me worthy enough to be taken as his bride.”

Martha laughed again and pride swelled in his chest at his ability to bring it forth. “If I were a gentleman and you were a maiden, I would think myself fortunate to have you as a wife.” She stepped back and he reluctantly released her hand. “Alas, your own bride has stolen what might have been mine.”

“As your own husband has captured what might have been mine.” Abigail nodded, her gaze trained on Martha’s face. “However, things are the way they are. Who am I to complain?” 

John glanced at Thomas, relieved to find that his expression of confusion mirrored his own. He could never understand the thoughts of women. “I would hope that you wouldn’t think to complain of your marital status, Abigail.” He linked his arm with hers. “I know that I would choose no other over you.”

“I feel the same way, John.” Abigail assured, smiling thoughtfully at him. “I simply imagine the possibilities if we were not required to choose.”  

John furrowed his brows together. “Not choose, madam?”

“Oh, don’t mind me, John.” She waved him away. “The silly thoughts of a woman. Pay them no mind.” John frowned at the words. She was well aware that he valued her opinion over that of any man. 

“You should not dismiss yourself so quickly.” He protested. “You have the mind of no ordinary woman.” He praised, pulling her closer. 

“I am inclined to agree.” Martha stated. “Your mind is like no other, Mrs. Adams.”

Abigail reached to take her friend’s hand in her own. “You do yourself little credit, Mrs. Jefferson. You have many talents a man could not hope to possess.” 

“Ah, but you haven’t spent a night with my Tom.” Martha remarked, sharing an open secret between herself and Abigail. John couldn’t imagine what they were discussing, but he listened anyway; perhaps making an attempt to decode the language of women. 

Abigail laughed. “That is true, my friend.” She gave Martha’s hand one last squeeze before stepping away. “Come, John. We must check on the children.” She shared a lingering look with the other woman before tugging John down the street.


	4. Questioning

Martha and Abigail seemed to be spending more time with each other than with their respective husbands. They had been brought to visit the men, it was rather impolite of them to ignore them so. Those were John’s thoughts as he paced around the small area of Thomas’ apartment. 

“Sit down, John, I beg of you.” Thomas glanced at him from where he was huddle over his desk. “How can you expect me to write when you’re so very distracting?” 

“I just don’t understand it, Thomas.” John didn’t fully process nor care what his friend said. “They are our wives, are they not? I have missed Abigail more than I would have missed the sunrise. I was under the impression that she felt the same way.” 

Thomas sighed, placing his quill down and leaning back in his chair. “I don’t doubt that she did, John. She enjoys your company.” 

“Yes, but it seems she prefers the company of your wife.” He insisted angrily, not ceasing in his movements. “Does it not bother you, Jefferson? How your wife spends each day with another?”

Thomas shrugged. “I do not mind as long as she is happy.” He said simply, watching John with almost amusement. “I have never seen her get along with another woman as she does with your wife. She makes her happy. Who am I to interfere with my wife’s happiness?” 

“You are her husband!” John exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. “You are her husband and she spends all of her time with another. If they were not both ladies, I daresay I would suspect them of having an affair!”

“But they are both women, John.” Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose. “They are women who are simply enjoying a friendship, not unlike us. We have their nights to ourselves. Why must you be so dissatisfied with that?” He questioned. 

John huffed, setting himself on the bed. “I do not think it is wrong of me to want to spend more time with my wife.” He insisted. He and Abigail had spent so much time apart. All he desired was to be repaid the time they had lost. “I simply wish to know what the two of them find so much more entertaining than us.” 

Thomas fixed John with a look. “You will not calm yourself until you are satisfied, will you?” 

“How can you expect me to?” He crossed his arms, something resembling a pout on his lips. “I missed my wife so dearly and now she avoids me.” 

“I don’t believe she is avoiding you.” Thomas disagreed, spinning his chair to face John. “I believe that she is enjoying getting to know someone new. Martha is interesting to her.”

“And I am not?” John was offended by the thought. His wife adored spending time with him; of course she did. She loved him. He could not be so easily replaced by a woman. 

“That isn’t what I said.” Thomas sighed, looking exhausted. “Your wife will be in your bed tonight, will she not?” 

John scowled. “Do you think of nothing else?” He shook his head in disgust. He would be lying if he claimed not to enjoy his nights with Abigail. He enjoyed having a warm body next to his each night; someone to hold, to touch. However, he would appreciate having his wife’s company in more ways than physical. 

“If it truly upsets you so much, why not talk to her about it?” Thomas suggested, raising an eyebrow. “Surely, as her husband, you could question what makes my wife so entertaining to her.” 

“Well, I-” John paused. Why shouldn’t he do as Thomas said? He was her husband, after all. He deserved to know what his wife entertained herself with when he wasn’t present. He jumped to his feet. “Excellent idea, Jefferson.” He declared. “Come, let us visit our wives.” 

“Us?” Thomas questioned, standing anyway. “I am not the one bothered by my wife’s activities.” He pointed out even as he followed John out the door and down the stairs. “There are probably just speaking of womanly things. Dresses and children, perhaps.” 

“I do not believe that dresses and children are enough to hold my wife’s attention.” He snapped. “She is not a simple woman. She enjoys talks of politics and literature.” He was so quick to defend her. He would not have anyone suggest that his wife was trivial or foolish. 

“Then perhaps that is what she is speaking of with Martha.” Thomas suggested. “Martha enjoys speaking of literature and poetry. Perhaps that is why they enjoy each other’s company so.” 

John shook his head, ignoring any notion of Thomas being correct. Martha never seemed like a very learned girl, but he supposed that Thomas would know her better than he. Thomas quickly surpassed him and John had to jog to keep up with his long strides. They reached his apartment and John inserted the key, pushing open the door. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room. He couldn’t imagine why the curtains would be drawn on such a beautiful day. 

“John!” Abigail’s voice rang out from the bed. Why would she be in bed at this hour? His eyes slowly adjusted and he made out his wife’s figure, holding the sheets around her body. Her hair was undone, falling in waves around her shoulders. It took a moment to realize that she was completely unclothed. “John, I wasn’t expecting you home.” 

John’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Abigail? What on Earth are you doing in bed?” His gaze was pulled away from his wife by the presence of another figure in the bed beside her. Martha Jefferson was in a similar state of undress, holding the sheets over her breasts. “Mrs. Jefferson!” He flushed, quickly turning his head. “You must pardon me, madam. I was not expecting to find you in this state.” 

“It is hardly any fault of yours.” Martha breathed, her voice holding a note anxiety. 

“Martha,” Thomas’ voice was laced with hurt. “You- How could you- With a  _ woman! _ ” He exclaimed, taking a step towards the door. “I- I could never have imagined-” He seemed at a loss for words. 

John still lacked understanding. “What sort of activity requires two women to be divested of their clothing in bed with one another?” He questioned, still not turning to invade the privacy of the woman he was not married to. 

“Surely you can not be so naive?” He’d never heard such anger come from Thomas. “Isn’t it clear?” He was seething, breathing heavily. John dared to glance at him, shocked by what he saw. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, his face was beat red, and there were the glistenings of tears in his eyes. John took a step back, stupefied by Thomas’ anger. 

“What? What do you mean?” He didn’t understand at all. “What should be made clear by this?” 

Thomas shook his head and flew from the room without looking back. “Thomas!” Martha called to him, dashing out on his heels. John was relieved to see that she had managed to pull on at least some coverings. 

He turned his attention to Abigail, who had allowed the sheets to fall, leaving her upper body bare. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.” She said gently, a hint of guilt behind her eyes. 

“Find out what?” John hated being the only one unaware of something. “Abigail, what is going on?” His confusion was rapidly becoming anger. “You will explain all this.”

Abigail sighed. “Close the door and sit.” She patted the bed next to her.  She hesitated as he did so, looking down at her lap. “Martha and I are,” She paused as if considering her next words carefully. “Close.” She met his gaze, deep meaning behind her eyes. 

“Close? What do you-” Realization dawned on him. “You- With a  _ woman _ ?!” He could hardly wrap his mind around the thought. That was impossible. An affair between two women? That was positively unheard of. “I- How?” 

Abigail defied all expectations and laughed. “Oh, John.” Her voice held such fondness, as did her gaze. “I could tell you how, but would it truly make you feel better?” 

“I- Well, I suppose not.” He admitted, still processing this new information. “I’ve heard of affairs between men, but between  _ women?”  _ He shook his head, still unable to comprehend it. “That must be perverse.” He insisted. “Perhaps not as perverse as affairs between men, but perverse nonetheless.” 

“It doesn’t feel perverse, John.” Abigail took his hand in her own. “It feels wonderful and beautiful. Truly.”

John snatched his hand away, unable to even look at his wife. “Be it with man or woman, what was done was still an affair, Abigail!” He rose to his feet. “You had an affair.”

Abigail sighed. “Yes, John. I will not deny that. I see no point in denying. It helps neither of us.” She tucked a lock of brown hair behind her ear. “John, please sit.” She requested. “Allow me the chance to explain myself.” 

He glanced at her with contempt. He doubted there was anything she could say that would quell the pain in his chest. Her eyes were so pleading. He could never deny her. He sighed and resumed his seat. “How did this begin?” 

She sat up straighter, a sure sign that she was about to begin one of her lectures or stories. “I noticed her beauty from the moment I met her, John. Anyone would be foolish not to. She is the picture of absolute perfection.” She paused, sending John a knowing look. “More than I noticed her beauty, I noticed how you noticed her beauty.” 

John frowned, his brows furrowed. “I have no idea what you are implying, madam.” He denied, discomfort rising in his stomach. 

“Come now, John.” She scoffed, never one to tolerate such behavior from her husband. She could spot any lie from him with ease. “I am certain you have more faith in my intelligence. From the moment I saw you together, I knew you were infatuated with her. I saw how you looked at her. It was the same way you often look at me.” She took his hand in her own. “Truth be told, I believed that the two of you were already having an affair.” She admitted. John opened his mouth to deny any such thing, but he was cut off. “I expected anger; and yet, I held none. Not towards you or to her. Indeed, I felt relieved.”

John stared blankly at her. “Relieved, madam?” Did she truly expect him to believe such things? 

“Relieved, John.” Abigail nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Relieved that you had found someone to keep you from being lonely while I was away. I thought she was a wonderful opportunity for you.”

“Opportunity?” John echoed, staring at her incredulously. “Are you saying that you would have harbored no ill will towards me if I were having an affair with Mrs. Jefferson myself?” 

Abigail considered a moment. “Another woman might have felt anger or jealousy or hatred. Indeed, I expected myself to feel this way; and yet, I simply did not. There were no negative emotions tied with the idea.” She explained. “I simply desired to know the woman my husband found to be worthy of him.” She rubbed tiny circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. “So I confronted her; not in a cruel way. I simply asked how long ago the affair had been established. She informed me that there was no such affair, but that she had thought of it. She was kind and blunt. She held no secrets from me. She was wonderful. We became quick friends, that much you know. She is intelligent, she is charismatic, she is thoughtful,” She paused. “And she is beautiful. I can not deny that.” She reached forward to cup his cheek. “She noticed the same traits in me. We found ourselves falling into bed together. We found ourselves enjoying doing so. We spoke of our husbands, of how we would enjoy them finding themselves falling into bed with us.” 

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as John struggled to comprehend the events Abigail had relayed to him. She had been in bed with another woman. A woman who John found himself attracted to. His head was spinning. He found himself to be at a loss for words; quite the feat for him. He stared at his wife, scrutinizing her. Could he trust her words? He had never doubted her before. In all their years, lying had never been a sin of which he would accuse her. 

“I must take time to process, Abigail.” He said eventually, fighting to keep his voice even. “You have given me much to think about.” 

She squeezed his hand. “John, do not fear that this has any effect on my feelings for you. You are my husband; not she. She will never have that honor. My love is yours.”

“You feel nothing for Mrs. Jefferson, save for physical attraction?” He gazed deep into her eyes. 

She hesitated. “I care for Martha.” She admitted eventually. “I care for her as I have never cared for another woman.” She squeezed his hand before he had the chance to look away. “Those feelings do not compare for the ones I hold for you.” 

John sighed, desperately wishing to believe her. It seemed that everything was in question now. He had always been one to question society, to question the world, to question the very existence of being, but he had never expected to question Abigail. “I require time, Abigail.” He rose, headed towards the door. 

“John,” She called to him, causing him to turn to her. “I am, I as I ever was, and ever shall be: Yours.” 

 


End file.
